The Twilight City Read online

  He reached out again, seeking a different source of power—vitality, life energy. Karlin was the nearest source. The Magehunter’s skin turned blue as if he instantly developed hypothermia. Vitality surged into Malek, and he placed his hand over the ragged gash in Nera’s side. Concentrating, he focused on her wound, fusing life and magical energy together, not knowing what he was doing but trying his best to mold the power together and mend what had been destroyed.

  Nera cried out and writhed weakly beneath him. Her eyes rolled up, and she fell unconscious.

  After some moments, Malek withdrew his hand. A fresh scar marred Nera’s bronze skin, but the wound was closed. Whether her insides were healed, he couldn’t say.

  “I have to get you out of here now.” He smoothed her lavender hair back from her brow and gently lifted her in his arms.

  The thought crossed his mind that he was drawing way too much energy. The powers of Nexus would be aware of him now. He remembered what Magellan had once told him: “Do not reveal your abilities to anyone you cannot implicitly trust. People will not understand who you are, what manner of power is at your disposal. What simple-minded people can’t understand, they fear and hate. Those that do have some understanding will move quickly to either control or kill you, Malek. Powerful enemies will line up before you quicker than you realize. It is my hope you have stalwart companions at your back in your time of need.”

  I know you were just in it for the gold, Nera, but you’re the only companion I have right now. I won’t leave you here at their mercy—I don’t know who else to trust.

  Malek ceased drawing power. That which he held crackled within him, giving him the feeling of incredible vitality and energy. He carried Nera with ease. A quick glance revealed Karlin was little more than a desiccated corpse. Pale wisps of skin flaked off from his skull, and his mouth was locked in a grimace of pain and horror.

  After Malek took half a dozen strides, a whump sounded behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder nearly caused him to drop Nera in shock.

  A giant creature stood in the center of the darkened area in which Malek had drawn his power. It looked as if flesh and armor had been forcibly combined and fashioned into a new, nightmarish figure. A black iron plate was fastened over where its mouth would be. The creature’s milky-white eyes surveyed the courtyard. It appeared at one point to look directly at Malek without seeing him.

  My ring. It can’t see me. The silver ring he wore protected him from magical scrying and appeared to render him and Nera invisible to the creature. He cautiously took a few more steps, eyes locked on the creature in case it followed, but it didn’t appear to sense him.

  Malek breathed a sigh of relief after he rounded a building and put the creature out of sight. A locked gate stood before Malek and the outer courtyard. With a focused push of his thoughts, he tore the iron gate from its hinges, the brittle metal shattering to pieces. Striding through the breach, Malek spotted a pair of guards rushing to investigate the clamor. He tossed them off their feet as he had the Magehunters, although with less force, and proceeded to the front gate.

  The pair of guards who had initially let them inside were gone. Another pair gawked as he walked out, carrying the thief in her bloodied Watch uniform, but Malek ignored them. They must have sensed his power, for they didn’t challenge him.

  Malek strode off into the night in search of a healer.

  Chapter 14

  Orange and red clouds streaked across a blood-red sky. A vast desert stretched below, the ground cracked and pockmarked. Ash rained from the sky, the gray chunks delicate as snow in the harsh environment, swirling around Nera’s face. She soaked up the infernal heat warming her skin as if it were the rejuvenating water of a hot spring. The air reeked of sulfur and the faint stench of carrion. She was in the Abyss.

  A long wall stood ahead, stretching infinitely to the horizon in either direction. It was the Wall of Lost Souls. Nera didn’t know how that knowledge was in her mind, but it was there. The bricks were made from crushed bones and blood the mortar. Screams of the damned clawed inside her ears, threatening to shatter her sanity.

  Chained to the wall was the wasted figure of a man. Great iron hooks pierced his flesh, to which were attached blackened chains. The man should have died long before, his body starved and malnourished. Nothing remained but gristle-covered bones sheathed in the pale parchment of his skin. Yellow pustules leaking pale fluid covered his bald pate and naked body.

  As Nera watched the pitiful creature, the ground suddenly opened up several paces away from the man. Filthy clawed hands plunged out of the ground, and cracked clumps of dirt fell away to reveal a small creature waist-high to the man scrabbling free. It was a gnarled, ugly thing, with arms longer than its legs, bat-like ears, and needle-sharp fangs. Its claws skittered on the stony ground as it loped toward the man. Sniffing the air, the creature stopped, turning and hissing at Nera. It glared at her for a moment, but when she made no move toward it, it turned back around and bolted toward the prisoner.

  The demon’s sharp claws easily sliced open the man’s belly, and it pulled free lengths of intestine mottled with rot. The creature yanked an armful of viscera free before plunging back into the ground. The man groaned in pain as his entrails disappeared into the hole in the ground for a moment before stopping. She imagined the creature had stopped in its den to munch on its disgusting morsel.

  Nera slowly approached until she was a dozen feet from the wasted soul. She leaned over to try to glimpse the man’s face.

  Sensing her presence, he raised his head and stared right at her. His eyes had been torn out. A dried crust coated his eye sockets, and a pale, white maggot wriggled inside the left socket.

  Nera shuddered, for the man could evidently see her. She backed away, panic threatening to overtake her as the desire to flee overwhelmed her.

  The man’s cracked lips skinned back into a skeletal grimace. “Help me.”

  Nera shuddered and flew awake, breath exploding out of her, her heart racing like a mummer’s rattle. She gasped, sucking down fresh air even as she squirmed away from whatever monster had hailed her.

  “Easy! You’re still recovering from your wounds.” A young woman in gray robes held up her hands, seeking to calm Nera.

  “Where in the Abyss am I?” Nera looked around, noting the small, simple room she was in. A pair of candles guttered next to the firm pallet she lay on. The room was empty save for the robed woman and a vase of wilting flowers standing on the table beside the bed.

  “Your friend brought you to the House of the Lady Sabyl,” the young woman said with a bow.

  “Sabyl? This is the temple?” Even as she asked, Nera recognized the gloomy interior from when she had visited Arron the last time.

  “Yes. Your friend insisted you were wounded although all we could find were minor injuries to go with that fresh scar.” The acolyte pointed to a puckered scar on Nera’s side.

  Nera realized she was wearing only her smallclothes. Her undershirt was hitched up under her breasts, revealing a large scar she hadn’t had before. The memory of a sword piercing her side came back to her, along with the guard scowling in hatred and fury. “Where’s my gear?”

  The acolyte pointed to her leathers lying on a chair. The Nexus Watch armor and livery was crumpled up on the floor. It was all stained with prodigious amounts of blood. “I was about to have them washed for you—”

  “Nay, that will be fine. I need to get out of here.”

  “Very well, I will tell your friend you have awakened.”

  Nera just nodded silently, tracing the puckered scar with her finger. She remembered Malek standing over her, blazing with magical energy, and a burning pain in her side before she blacked out.

  “Nera?” a voice called out from outside the curtained room.

  Nera quickly clutched the sheet up to her neck. “Malek?”

  The young mage pushed through the curtain, a tentative smile on his face. Obvious relief washed over him at seeing he
r awake again. He had ditched his guard uniform and looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in two days.

  “Oh, thank the gods you’re okay! You wouldn’t wake up.” Malek put his hands on his hips and looked her over long and hard. “The priests said you were in a deep sleep and your body needed it to adjust to the shock you had been through.”

  Nera found herself smiling in return, despite him acting like a nursemaid. “Aye, well, it’s been a rough day, wouldn’t you say? You’re definitely going to be paying me a lot more to stick around if you keep putting me through this type of abuse.” She looked around the plain room again. “This wasn’t a terrible choice, bringing me here to the Temple of Sabyl, at least. Could’ve done a lot worse.”

  Sabyl was the Mistress of the Night, deity of fortune, luck, and thieves. Nera didn’t consider herself particularly pious, but she did make the occasional offering to Sabyl for good fortune.

  “You almost died, and you’re worried about what temple I brought you to?” Malek shook his head in exasperation but laughed.

  “I reckon that’s easier to wrap my mind around than whatever madness happened back at the prison. How am I alive? And what kind of damned mage are you?”

  “Long story,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll fill you in over a mug of ale. But first, we might want to get out of here… I daresay we made quite a scene leaving the prison last night.”

  “There’s an understatement. You’re a damn green fool, you know that?” Nera glared at Malek, and he looked sheepish. “But I guess that makes me just as bad, if not a bigger fool for going along with you.”

  The two of them laughed, relieved to be alive for the moment. A thought struck Nera.

  “Grab my leathers over there, would you?”

  Malek retrieved the bloodied clothes from the chair and handed them to her. He sat on the pallet beside her, watching curiously as she rooted through the hidden pockets. After a minute, her fingers found what she was looking for.

  “Hah! Our exploits weren’t a total loss.” She pulled a metal ring with several heavy keys from one of the many pockets stitched into her leathers. “I did manage to pickpocket those arseholes while I was getting the snot beat out of me and you were taking a nap.” She gave Malek a winning smile. “Now we just have to talk about my finder’s bonus…”

  Malek chuckled. “Damn, woman, you are more persistent than a bog monkey in heat.”

  “What did you call me?” Nera asked in mock outrage.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Malek tousled her hair and leaped to his feet before she could swat him. “Get some clothes on so we can discuss your finder’s bonus somewhere else.”

  ***

  Traven watched the Magehunter commander walk around the desiccated corpse crushed against the wall of the courtyard.

  “This is something new and unexpected.” Lassiter rested his chin in one hand, taking a moment to observe every detail of Karlin’s remains with his keen eyes. Two pairs of his Magehunters stood nearby silently, keeping the scene secure at each end of the courtyard.

  “You were first on scene, correct?” The commander’s pale blue eyes flicked over to Traven and back to the corpse. “What was your name again?”

  Traven swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Lassiter was legendary in Nexus—a great warrior and the ruthless commander of the elite Magehunters, who reported directly to the Pale Lord himself.

  “Traven, sir,” he said. “I was getting off shift and heard a clamor at the gate”—he pointed at the iron gate that had been torn from its hinges—“and when I came to investigate, I saw this.”

  “Did you see who was responsible?”

  “Nay, sir, but I remember a pair of guards enter earlier this evening that I hadn’t seen before—they said they were reassigned from the Merchant District. A man and woman… The man seemed pretty nervous, but the woman knew what she was about.” He wouldn’t easily forget the lush guard that had flirted with him. Traven cleared his throat and continued, eager to push away such thoughts, afraid Lassiter would be able to divine them. “They passed through the gate shortly before shift change and before this happened. I thought it a strange coincidence, is all.” The last part was out of his mouth before he realized it.

  Fool, if he wanted my opinion, he’d ask for it.

  One side of Lassiter’s mouth turned up in amusement, but his eyes remained icy. His clean-shaven face was handsome, and his long dark hair had a few streaks of gray. “You are right about that, Traven. An odd coincidence, indeed. And I happen to not believe in coincidences.” He knelt down at the edge of a blackened circle on the cobbled path. A charred clump of moss crumbled to ash when he prodded it with a gloved finger.

  “Fetch that sword, would you, lad?” The commander indicated the desiccated corpse and the longsword sheathed at his side. “Karlin was a fine swordsman, one that wouldn’t have easily been taken unaware.”

  Lassiter’s boots rang on the cobblestones as he strode toward the corpse in the tree twenty paces away. The commander moved with the fluid grace of a duelist.

  Traven hurriedly pulled the finely crafted longsword from Karlin’s scabbard. The motion caused the corpse to fall forward, and Traven nearly tripped over his own feet to avoid it. The nearby pair of Magehunters sneered at his clumsiness, but he was relieved to see Lassiter’s back turned. He jogged to catch up to the commander, following nervously a couple paces behind.

  “Did those two mention what they were doing here?” Lassiter walked around the tree, noting the position of Rogar’s body, which looked like a broken rag doll.

  Rogar had been impaled on a broken tree branch. The fist-sized shard of wood was a gory mess protruding from his chest. His eyes and mouth were wide in horror from whatever force had thrown him into the tree and ended his life.

  “No, sir, just that they were transferred to Barristal’s command.” Traven had to look away from the gruesome scene as his dinner threatened to vacate his stomach.

  “Which likely will be the first Barristal would have heard of it, I’d imagine.”

  Traven handed over the sword when Lassiter held out his hand. He studied the keen blade and the dried blood coating the end of it for a moment.

  “Just as I suspected, Karlin wasn’t taken unaware,” Lassiter said. “They are flesh and blood, whoever they are. None of my men would leave their weapons in such condition, so Karlin evidently drew blood and, thinking the threat removed, sheathed his blade before being taken unawares.” He turned his attention back to Traven. “You are dismissed, but remain near the barracks, and one of my men will be around to take your full statement.”

  Traven snapped a salute before hurrying off, relieved to be away. He was glad he hadn’t been foolish enough to challenge the pair who had unleashed whatever force killed Lassiter’s men.

  Chapter 15

  The two of them dined at The Bronze Shield, a classy tavern near the Merchant District. Nera wolfed down her plate of roasted spiced lamb and watercress with a warm loaf of barley bread slathered in butter. She washed it down with a honeyed mead.

  “Not bad,” Malek allowed after a few bites of food and a long sip of his wine.

  “Ahh… Being stuck through the guts tends to give you an appetite.” Nera pushed her empty plate away and wiped her mouth on a thick cloth napkin, which was a rarity at most of the taverns she had frequented.

  The two of them sat in a secluded booth at the rear of the room. A few merchant-class patrons sat in the common room, tending to their meals and drinks, but for the most part, the place was quiet for late morning. The barkeep whistled a tune as he exchanged ale casks behind the bar.

  “Well, my green friend… you were about to tell me what in the name of Balor’s balls is going on. I know a bit about magic, growing up in Nexus and all, but you’re not like any kind of mage I’ve ever seen. Are you one of those wild mages or something?”

  Malek held up a finger as he finished chewing a large mouthful of food.

  “And after that, we can rene
gotiate my combat fee and continued employment,” Nera continued.

  Malek washed his food down with some wine. “Honestly, I don’t know what I am,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve always had the sense of magic in everything around us, be it natural or crafted, but also life magic—vitality of living things, if you will. I can sense and feel it around me… Nexus, for example, just reeks of power—it permeates everything and everyone to some degree.”

  “Is that how you followed me that day we met? There’s no way you could’ve spotted me in that alley or even caught up in the market so quick. I thought it was dumb luck at first.”

  Malek nodded. “I tracked the familiar essence of my ring at first, but as I’ve become more accustomed to you, I’m sure I could track you by your own aura. You’ve a remarkable spark of vitality, Nera. My sense of magic is almost like seeing stars in the dark of night. And yours burns bright, indeed.”

  “Is that so? I’m no mage.” She frowned as she thought of something similar she had been told long ago by an old monk.

  “No, but that collar of yours gives off a powerful signature. Your own inherent magical nature is strong as well, Nera.” Malek closed his eyes. “I can sense the magic brimming through you, almost like smoke in a bottle. You might only be able to touch and use a fraction of it with your darkness and illusion spells, but whatever… ah, heritage you have makes it unique and powerful.” He opened his blue eyes and smiled at Nera.

  She looked away, embarrassed. “Aye, it’s the curse of being me that you are sensing.” She watched a couple merchants get up and leave the tavern. “I can’t cast spells… It’s just an ability of mine. If I try to use them without resting in between, they won’t work.” She shrugged. “But you obviously can do more than sense magic around you. At the prison, I saw you lit up with magical power, lightning crackling around just before I lost consciousness.”

  “Right. It’s not usually so dramatic, but I sort of lost control there for a moment.” Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. “Years ago, when I was a boy, a traumatizing experience happened to me, and I was able to seize hold of the power around me. Now, it’s just a matter of controlling and shaping it so it can be useful and channeled appropriately, to not be a danger to myself and those around me.”